


A way to spend the night

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Hancock adds nothing to the settlement's defenses, Light-Hearted, No Romance, practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What kind of asshole makes a cage to trap people?What kind of sick, twisted person fills said cage with chems to lure in addicts?And what kind of air-headed, stupid, lights-on-but-nobody-home, prima, buyer’s choice, absolutely top-shelfmorongets tricked by that?Hancock has answers to all these questions, and he has a lot of time to think about them in the dark. At least the mentats are different colours. That’s kind of fun.(If you build a raider cage and have Hancock with you, there's a small chance to trap him, and that's hilarious to me so I used it as writing practice. Short, fun fic with not much content)





	A way to spend the night

Hancock had survived among addicts, drifters and mercenaries for years, and he liked to think that was because of his natural charisma.  He was good with a gun and not above the occasional stabbing, but why make more trouble when you can just talk yourself out of it? Reading people was a sadly neglected skill in the Commonwealth, but it was a useful one. It was something he was good at.  
He thought.  
When he had first met the wanderer he had judged her to be a resourceful, peaceful and cheery kind of girl. She was witty and quick, and had that kind of aura that made people relax. She had surprised him by being an absolute killing machine once they started travelling together, and even frightened him a little with her deep, burning hatred of raiders, which came to light when she stopped at every minuteman settlement and offered her help.  
She admitted once that it was less about helping the farmers and more about killing what she called “the parasites of the earth”. He supposed everyone had their pet cause.  
He had not foreseen how good she was with her hands, either. Sometimes they would stay for days in her settlements while she built turrets, shacks and water pumps from scratch. During these times he would often anchor down in the local bar (if there was one) and trade stories with the caravans.  
This was one of those times. From his chair he saw her assemble what looked like a big, metal crate right outside the fence, while a settler ran power lines to a nearby switch.  
It looked interesting. He was bored.

“Hey, boss.”  
  
Her round, freckled face was caked with dust and sweat. Those big eyes, almost as black as his own, lit up when she saw him, and she flashed a toothy smile.  
That smile must be a vault dweller thing. No Commonwealth natives had that many teeth.  
  
“Heya, Hancock. Come to admire my handywork?”  
“Yeah, sure. What’cha bulding?”  
“A cage.”  
“For what?”  
“Raiders.”

He took another look at the metal box. He couldn’t see a door or anything, and he had no idea what all the wires were for. Unless she was going to electrocute whatever was inside. That was a morbid idea, but he wouldn’t put it past her.  
As he was deciding not to ask what she was going to do with any raider hostages, he watched her paint the cage with big, white letters. _“Free chems inside”. “Jet, psycho, med-x”._

“Alright, I know raiders aren’t the most… Academically inclined types, but what makes you think they'll fall for this?”  
“Hey, there’s always someone desperate enough to try. I’m banking on the raiders from Corvega sending scouts over here to skulk around the walls. They map out the turrets, guess how many settlers are inside, and- Oh! What’s this? A big chem stash! Why, wouldn’t it be just _neat_ to go back to base with the intel and a heaping helpful of jet! I think I’ll just-“  
  
She reached over and flipped the switch on the power pylon next to her. The cage shot sparks and creaked, but nothing else happened.  
Hancock decided to ask anyway.

“So, you’re gonna electrocute them? Not judging.”  
“No, no,” She flipped the switch again and the sparks stopped.  
“There’s supposed to be a door on the inside that slams shut. I haven’t finished it yet.”  
He craned his head to look inside the crate, and his trained eyes immediately spied some boxes of mentats.  
“Not sure any hardened raiders are gonna take that bait, boss. Unless you’re hoping for the scholarly division.”  
“Yeah, I know. That’s all I had. I think trashcan Carla is coming through tomorrow though, and she always has something. Now the yao guai cage, on the other hand, that’s coming along nicely…”

They spent the evening debating if yao guai could even be tamed, and if they could, if it would be possible to ride one into battle. Hancock was firm in his belief that even a docile beast would never consent to being saddled, but the wanderer insisted that it would be a piece of cake once she built a “beta wave transmitter”, whatever the hell that was. She went to bed around midnight and left him to stare at the dimly lit settlement from his place in the bar.  
His head was full of raiders and yao guai. It was, sadly, not full of mentats.  
What was the point of putting the chems there if the cage wasn’t even finished? They would just be open to the elements. The thought of those poor, defenceless boxes being ruined by rain or stolen by a settler broke his heart. They deserved better than that.  
After another drink he had convinced himself that it was not only right, but his _civic duty_ to rescue them.

And, so, Hancock found himself descending the rickety, wooden staircase that lead from the shack, keeping to the shadows under the wall. He waved to the guard at the gate (“Good, you? No, I haven’t seen anything. Yeah, just going for a piss. Yeah, yeah, you too, good night.”) and let the glow of his cigarette lead the way to where he knew the cage stood.  
It was hidden well in the darkness, but he could clearly read the white paint promising jet and psycho to unlucky passer-by’s. He took a long drag and looked at it.  
She might get mad if he took the chems. But, then again, what did she expect? To just leave chems out overnight and find them again in the morning? Nah, she would understand. If she noticed at all. He knew people anyway, he could repay her if she wanted once they got back to Goodneighbour.  
He took a step forward and bent his back to look into the unfinished cage, but didn’t immediately see the treasure he came for. He took another step, and another, until he was crouched inside the metal box, squinting in the darkness and feeling the corners.  
His fingertips found cardboard. Bingo.  
The victory was tainted when the cage door slammed shut with a bang behind him.

“Fuckin’ idiot…”  
His whisper was eaten by the darkness. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been somewhere this pitch black. Not that he was scared of the dark or anything, and he wasn’t claustrophobic _per say_ , but…  
He remembered the heavy clouds outside, and wondered if the cage was waterproof. Ah, well, there was nothing for it now. He just had to ride this thing out until morning and steel himself against the inevitable mockery. Such was life.  
At least he had something to pass the time.

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to get his lighter going he resorted to feeling his way around the cage again, wincing every time his hands brushed against leaves and twigs, until he found the box that got him into this mess.  
He shook it. It rattled. If she had put empty chem boxes in here he would have seriously flipped, but it seemed there would be no need for ghoul flipping today. He got it open and popped out one of the little tablets that he had grown to love so much.  
The taste took him by surprise.  
They were the grape ones, which were much harder to come by than his usual, flavourless ones. It dissolved into a sugary foam inside his mouth.  
He would have to try not to pop them like candy, but another couldn’t hurt…

Half the box was gone when the gentle pitter-patter of rain started hitting the top of his prison. Hancock laid on his back and stared into nothing, the sugary, fruity taste of mentats turning sour in his dry mouth.  
Maybe if the rain dripped in here, he could drink it.  
Maybe if he took another tablet, he would forget about it.  
Maybe if his lighter worked he could at least see something, and maybe, just maybe, if he had stopped to think for a hot second he wouldn’t be here at all.  
_Stupid._  
Oh god, mixing flavours was a mistake. The orange and grape was sticking his tongue to his mouth, and he could feel grains of sugar between his teeth, crunching like sand when he tried to wet his mouth.  
_Fucking **stupid.**_  
He wanted to fall asleep and just wait until someone opened his cage, but something about the thick, oppressing darkness made him uneasy, and the metal beneath him was ice cold. He blinked the dust out of his eyes and wished he had eyelashes to do the job for him.  
When daylight broke his companion would come and free him, and they would have a laugh about it.

The blackness around him was starting to give away to a more dusky, cosy look when he at last heard some noise. The guard by the gate was calling out to someone, the Brahmin were rousing and bellowing, and someone walked the wall above him.

“Mornin’”  
“Hey, morning! Did you hear the rain last night?”  
“Yeah, if the general doesn’t set up some kind of shelter our crops are gonna drown.”  
“why don’t you do something yourself for once?”  
“But- isn’t that why she’s here?”  
  
“Morning.”  
“Morning!”  
  
“Hey, up there, can you see the cage?”  
“Yes general, I- Wait, it’s closed!”

Fucking finally.

There were heavy footsteps, and then a resounding _bang_ went through his cage, causing him to bolt upright. He opened his mouth to say something before the cage was kicked again, even harder.  
“Oh! Oh, I got you now!”  
It was her, the wanderer. It was strange to be on the receiving end of her “raiders are scum” voice. He had heard it in battle many a time, but something about that furious, unbridled hatred directed at him, in addition to the fact that he had spent the night in darkness and cold and was crashing pretty hard, sent shivers down his spine.  
He coughed several times to clear his throat as she spoke again.  
“I’m warning you, I’m armed and there’s fifteen turrets pointed at you. Don’t try anything!”  
  
“Wouldn’t dream of it, boss.”  
His voice was hoarse, but recognizable. The kicking abruptly stopped.  
“… Hancock?” he could hear the confusion in her voice giving away to amusement.  
“Yeah, yeah. It’s me. Look, it’s been a rough night, if you could just-”  
“What are you doing in there?” she laughed. He was going to laugh with her as soon as she opened that damn door.  
"Listen, I know I've been kind of an asshole in my life, but you need to overlook my faults as a person and help me the fuck outta this thing."  
“Yeah- Yeah, of course. Hold on!”

He heard more steps, some clicks, and was suddenly blinded by sparks shooting out of the door as it creaked, whined and moved out of the way.  
The morning was grey and overcast. It was also one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.  
Hancock shielded his eyes and looked up to meet the solid, onyx gaze of his travelling companion. She was flashing that massive, perfectly white smile that had too many teeth in it.

“Why, look who it is. You ready to get this show on the road?”  
“Hey, that’s my line.”  
“And those are my chems.”  
He wiped the sugary residue from his mouth.  
  
“Help yourself. I’m good for now.”


End file.
